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The constant and monotonous clinking and clashing of glasses drove Malik deeper into his thoughts. Laughter and boisterous discussion around him reverberated into the far corners of his mind. Regret started seeping into his bones, rattling at his very core. Yes, he had told Ishizu that he would be here but he had severely underestimated how ready he was.
Or rather, he realized how much he hadn’t yet healed from the last heartache.
Can it be considered heartache if you never told them how you felt? Malik scolded himself as he sloshed the liquid in his cup, feeling the ice cubes hit against the sides of the glass. The room was filled to the brim with various relatives; many faces both new and old. People he had known for ages and others, strangers to Malik, but they could swear to the moon and back that they had attended elementary school with his parents. Malik would smile and nod and tell them how great he had been progressing in his career. At the end of the day, anything he said would become fodder for gossip down the line anyway.
He stood next to the elaborately placed drink table in the center of the room, adorned with various glass decanters all containing different alcoholic liquids. Two ice sculptures shaped in the form of giant ornaments graced both ends of the table, shot glasses lined the perimeter of each. At first, Malik would fill a cup with some of the contents of one decanter before he moved to the next, but by the time the fifth auntie rolled around asking about his nonexistent love-life, Malik decided mixing all of the contents of the vessels together in his cup would be a better idea. All the while, hoping that the ground would swallow him whole.
“Malik?”
He turned to the source of the voice, familiarity reshaping his hope for the outcome of the night. Malik watched as his former friend walked towards him, arms open ready to embrace; his burgundy, black, and blonde strands pulled back into a ponytail and his bright white button-up striking against his red and black striped vest. “Atem! It’s been ages!”
“It has!” Atem responded with a tight embrace and immediately grimaced as he pulled back with a chuckle. “I see you’ve started partying early.”
Malik rolled his eyes knowing full well that he smelled like every bit of alcohol that was mixed in his cup. He looked down at his nearly empty cup before looking back up at Atem with a rehearsed pout. “Please save me.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Atem patted both of his hands on Malik’s shoulders. “Lucky for you, I was on my way out.”
Blinking in confusion, Malik watched Atem walk past him and in a bee-line towards the door. Sensing he wasn’t being followed, Atem turned back a few feet from the blond.
“Are you going to be my damsel or not?”
Not thinking twice, Malik quickly followed behind, bumping into several people along the way, and shortly after fell outside. He looked down the handful of steps to see Atem throwing his coat on at the bottom, throwing a smirk back up at the blond as Malik pulled his own coat tighter against himself. “Leave it to Atem Sennen to run away from his own holiday party.”
“Correction, Isthar.” Atem turned slightly towards Malik as he fell in step with him. “My family’s holiday party. Several people on that guest list would not have made the cut if I had any say in it.”
Malik laughed and started walking alongside Atem, kicking up snow as they both lazily strode down the sidewalk. It didn’t seem like Atem had a goal but Malik didn’t mind. Being anywhere instead of that party was a welcome gift.
Silence had fallen over them both; Malik fought over the words to say but couldn’t find any ones sufficient to stand on their own. He had drifted apart from Atem as the years had passed. Or at least, he thought they had. Malik expected that feeling to be mutual; especially since Atem also never made an effort to seek him out. Distant memories flooded in the back of Malik’s mind; both reminding him and drowning him in their last encounter. He used to hope that time would heal all wounds but everything that he had experienced today showed Malik that time only helped to deepen them.
Snow started to fall silently around them both; anchoring Malik to the moment but blurring the lines of the past. Part of him was screaming; yelling at himself for accepting to go to the stupid holiday party. But the other part of him was reaching for closure; yearning to get the answers that he never had and has been seeking for years. Answers that Atem most likely had, if their last encounter had anything to do with it. He took a sharp breath and quickly glanced over at Atem.
Atem was lost in his own thoughts, fingers typing furiously away on his phone. Malik scrutinized him; the frustrated look that Atem would often sport now distinctively etched across his features. Biting the inside of his bottom lip, Malik looked back at his own feet, focusing on the different flurries that fell softly on the toes of his shoes and slowly melted away.
“What made you come today?”
Startled, Malik blinked and looked at Atem, wondering if he imagined the question. The typing slowed to a stop and Atem shot him a glance from the corner of his eyes.
“Well?”
“I promised Ishizu.” Malik blurted and noticed a soft smile creep over Atem’s face. Almost immediately, he noticed Atem sigh and turn his attention back to his phone. Malik couldn’t fight the feeling that he wasn’t believing his story.
Well, it wasn’t a complete lie, was it? He did come for Ishizu. He came to spend time with family and friends and… Bakhure. Closing his eyes hard, Malik balled his hands into fists and shoved them into his coat pockets, trying to suppress his true scars from showing. Why was it so hard to stop missing someone who wanted nothing to do with him?
You heard him, Malik. You heard the call…
“You never did tell me much.”
Malik quirked a brow but didn't lend any other physical reaction to the response. He remained quiet, eagerly awaiting Atem to elaborate more by what he meant.
“You have always hated coming to these, especially when we were younger.” A chuckle broke the air between them but gracefully chained Atem's thoughts. “I remember so vividly how Odion would practically drag you to these parties in order to appease your parents. You never came here willingly, Malik.”
He didn't. As much as Malik hated being around people, he despised being around people who sprouted fake cheer. People who spent all year talking and spreading rumors behind everyone's back only to come together for one night and pretend it all didn't happen. Every year he would beg his parents to not take him but he would always lose the fight to ‘what would people think’ and ‘Malik, you need to grow up’ .
“Malik, hurry! We're going to miss the lights!”
But Bakhure…
“It's going to be so crowded, Baku.”
“Fuck them. We'll find the perfect spot. I promise.”
If there was one reason that Malik had to get through the holidays, it was Bakhure. He never let Malik crumble in his dislike for the holidays; always searching for the next thing to do. Bakhure agreed that the holiday was a parade for everyone's inner avarice and greed but he always told Malik that he needed to look past it. He told Malik to always see the good in a situation.
"Did you just steal that hat?"
"Steal, Malik? Me? Do you really think this idiot is going to miss it?"
Just like a fucked up Robin Hood, Malik would often joke. Yet, those same actions were exactly what got Bakhure sent away to boarding school; and the same actions that led into the undoing of Malik. A sharp pain in Malik's core brought him back to the present as he stiffened and adjusted his hands in his pockets.
"People grow up, Atem." Malik bit back harshly as he pulled his coat closer around himself, hoping the act would make him feel less bare than he was.
"Hmm."
Malik could feel the crimson stare on him. "I don't need you to psychoanalyze me."
"I'm not. You're just a lot more readable than you think."
Raisinga brow, Malik stared at Atem, who was looking regal in his stance. He broke out into laughter, doubling over while Malik watched on.
“Okay, I lied.” He turned and continued walking forward as Malik jogged a few steps to keep up. “If you were readable, maybe I’d finally be able to know why.”
“Why? ”
“Why you stopped coming over. Why you all but fell off the face of the earth. Or maybe you did and I’m just learning about it now. Welcome back by the way.”
Brushing Atem’s comment away, Malik started making his way towards a bench that he had spotted in the distance, questioning at what point they had walked into the park. There were bright, multicolored string lights intertwined between the branches on various trees and Christmas garlands wrapped around light poles tied with a giant red bow at the top. If Bakhure were here, this would be a stop that they ‘absolutely had to go to’ . Malik would complain about something but Bakhure would tell him it would be alright.
Everything would always be alright.
He was starting to understand why Bakhure would pick on his cousin so much. Atem was great, but sometimes his jokes were insensitive, much to the chagrin of those around him. When you needed someone to be blunt, Atem was your guy. Other times, he was just a dick.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like you even want me around.” Malik passively stated as he stepped onto the bench and sat on the railing of the backrest; the only part of the bench that wasn’t slightly wet with snow. The silence from Atem was unexpected. “That wasn’t a joke by the way.”
“I don’t recall laughing.” Atem glowered as he replied, sarcasm laced in every syllable. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Unbridled anger slowly started swelling in Malik’s chest, wildly unsure how Atem could forget that night. “Don’t pretend like you start caring now. I was there, Atem. I heard what he said. Fuck, I heard what you said. I’m all for sitting here and reminiscing but don’t play nice as if you wanted me there.”
Holidays were never the same since that day; since the day that he lost him.
He mentally rolled his eyes at the thought, as he often did whenever Bakhure popped into his mind. Malik didn’t lose him, but he might as well have. Maybe a true loss would have been easier. Knowing that someone wasn’t coming back was an easier pill to swallow than the endless pit of ‘what if’s’ that often circled in his mind. It had been years since it happened, yet part of Malik still hung on. He clung to the futile hope that they would see each other again. Unable to stop seeing him in everyone he met, every love he became entangled with.
Adjusting his hands, Malik felt a burning ache stemming from his knuckles. He hadn’t realized how hard he was gripping the railing of the bench under him. He looked down at his shoes, awaiting Atem’s response, only to realize that the flurries from earlier weren’t anywhere to be found. The air was eerily quiet. Still.
Malik refused to make eye contact. The fire within him smoldered but it didn’t falter. He was still aggravated that Atem chose to play dumb. Even moreso that he still hadn’t said a word.
“That was years ago...”
The sudden response caught Malik by surprise, as his eyes snapped up to meet Atem’s. Malik didn’t know what he expected to see; equal amounts of anger, maybe? He didn’t expect Atem to look bewildered. He didn’t expect Atem to look remorseful. He watched as Atem slowly made his way to the bench and sat next to Malik, leaving more than ample space between them both.
Atem took a sharp intake of air, keeping his gaze focused on the seat of the bench, before he slowly and deliberately exhaled. Almost as if the one breath was carrying the weight of everything he loved. “Are you…talking about the phone call?”
“Fuck Malik.” Bakhure had seethed. “I was wrong to ever trust him.”
“You’re right,” Atem had agreed as he paced to the other end of the room. “He is annoying though. Always up your ass about something.”
“Yes,” Malik answered in a very matter-of-fact tone, unsure where the conversation was going.
Suddenly groaning, Atem tossed his head back in defeat causing Malik to arch a brow. “You weren’t supposed to hear that -”
“Why? Because it showed your true colors?”
“Malik, please.” Atem had sighed heavily and laced his fingers before him, his arms resting on his knees. “Bakhure and I… You stepped in on a very specific part of the conversation.”
“Right, an-”
Atem stopped Malik just before he spoke by placing his hand on Malik’s shoulder. “The part that was a joke .”
Malik swatted Atem’s hand away and scoffed. Every fiber in his being wanted to get up and walk away; go anywhere else. Be anywhere else. But something kept him anchored. Malik looked in the far distance in front of them both, seeking a distraction. Something to keep him from leaving.
All he found were trees and a vast sea of illuminated lights.
Bakhure would have hated that consumerism made its way to nature. Hated it so much that Malik would have never heard the end of it. But he would have still dragged Malik to see them. He wondered what else he would have done. Bakhure would always do something cheesy, something unexpected. The faint image of the both of them walking through the park as kids came into view. They both were holding hot chocolates that Bakhure had just grabbed from the waiting area at a coffee shop. He had wanted to give Malik the ‘true holiday experience’ . Malik was laughing so hard that he was crying and Bakhure, sporting a whipped cream mustache, was laughing alongside him.
He had forgotten how his laugh sounded.
Malik always figured that action was Bakhure showing that he cared, that he liked spending time with you. He’d never gotten a chance to ask the true intent-
“I’m sorry.”
That voice.
A snapping of a branch to his right caused him to freeze in his thoughts and turn his head in that direction. The voice, familiar and husk, flooded Malik’s thoughts and unearthed his memories. The warmth that he remembered, the aura that anchored him, surrounded him once more as he gazed upon those same gray-blue eyes.
“Bakhure?” Malik spoke slowly, afraid this was all a figment of his own thinking. It had to be. Bakhure was gone. He sensed Atem getting up from his left and dusting himself off. He heard the distinct locking of Atem’s phone before he had pocketed it. Was he texting Bakhure this whole time?
“This is why I don’t get in the middle.” Atem spoke sternly in Bakhure’s direction. “You two need to talk. Meanwhile, I’m late for my date.” Waving his phone in the air, he took his leave, making sure to throw Bakhure a playful punch in the arm as he walked past him.
Malik refused to take his eyes off Bakhure. So he watched as Bakhure watched him. He had grown in the years since Malik had last seen him. His wild silver hair was as messy as it always had been, right down to the loose mess of bangs in front. Bakhure stood taller, Malik wondered by how much and remembered all of the times that he would tower over Bakhure throughout their adventures. The bouquet of flowers that Bakhure had in hand fell effortlessly to his side, without regard.
Suddenly, Malik wondered what it would be like. To run up to him and wrap his arms around Bakhure. To kiss the man he had been effortlessly and secretly in love with since they were both kids running around without a care in the world.
Or, what it would be like to run up and punch him in the face.
Malik couldn’t decide what feeling needed to take over. He was feeling everything and nothing all at once. It had been long, too long since that day. Too many words had been said and left unsaid that Malik couldn’t tell which ones were real anymore.
It was a joke.
The words caught in his throat. He needed to hear the truth.
“I-”
They both spoke at the same time and immediately stopped as soon as they noticed what was happening. Bakhure held out his hand.
“Malik,” he deeply exhaled before continuing. “I am sorry, for everything. The conversation you heard wasn’t anywhere near how I felt about you. How I feel about you.”
Bakhure’s hands fell to his sides and balled up into fists, “Fuck, I was telling Atem what I imagined my dad wanted to hear from me and the conversation spiraled. Malik, my dad thought I was a terrible influence.” He looked up at Malik, his eyes on the brink of tears. “And for a while, I believed it, too.”
“I would call Atem and tell him that you were better off without me.” Bakhure’s voice cracked as he wiped the back of his hand on his face. “Part of me was glad you stopped coming over. It was glad you had moved on. Proud of you for finding someone better.”
Malik didn’t know at what point it happened, but he was immediately on his feet and standing inches from his former best friend. From the man he truly loved. His nerve-endings were on fire and his mind in hyper-drive. Malik wanted so badly to console him but didn’t know the first thing to do.
Or he did.
But it had been too long.
So long.
And they were just friends.
And what if he didn’t feel that way?
Time seemed to slow as Malik’s hand reached out and brushed a strand of Bakhure’s hair off of his face, letting the hand rest on his cheek, his thumb softly resting on Bakhure’s scar. The warmth felt like a tender fire under Malik’s hand, one that Bakhure nuzzled into as he placed his hand over Malik’s. A small reassurance but a much needed one.
Their eyes never left each other’s, letting the words left unsaid finally take their place and settle in the known. They watched as the edges of the world fell away. The times they spent together; their laughs, their cries, all of their accomplishments and their failures, all whizzed by them, each a reminder of everything they had done, everything they overcame. Together.
Bakhure closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Malik’s, letting the soft sounds of their breath be the only thing that filled the void. The blond felt like he was caught in a trance, intoxicated in the scent of the man before him. For countless nights he had dreamed of this moment. Pictured how it would finally be if he got to see him again, if he was able to confess how he truly felt.
How he wanted to thank Bakhure for making his holidays less shitty.
How happy he would finally be to express that he had someone that he couldn’t live without.
“I’m sorry,” Bakhure whispered softly against Malik’s lips.
Not letting this moment pass him, Malik eagerly closed the gap and pressed his lips onto Bakhure’s, letting all of the years of pent up passion overflow onto the subject before him. He felt Bakhure’s hands link around his waist, pulling him closer. The warmth between them left Malik wondering if they were both still standing outside. Malik let his own hand trail up and get lost in the silver mess of hair that he loved. He lightly tugged on the hair, causing Bakhure to slightly part his lips and allow Malik’s tongue to dive in.
Their movements were messy and desperate; both men eager to release their fervor, both yearning for the moment to last. Malik arched his back and lightly moaned into Bakhure’s mouth as soon as he felt nails scratch down his back.
“Oh, are you really that easy to tame, Ishtar?” Bakhure whispered breathily, his hold on Malik’s waist getting tighter.
“You just got lucky, Baku.” Malik pouted, letting his hands rest on Bakhure’s chest, before letting out a soft laugh. “Is it sad that I used to dream about this?”
Bakhure returned to resting his forehead on Malik’s. “Is it sadder that I did, too?”
“Why did you wait all of this time?”
Malik lightly balled the fabric on Bakhure’s chest in his fists and felt as Bakhure exhaled deeply; as if he were hoping that the weight of something would also go with it.
“I was hoping you were doing better. I really did think you moved on and forgot about us. About me.”
Placing his finger under Bakhure’s chin, Malik gently lifted it up, forcing him to look Malik in the eyes. “Baku, you were my best friend - ”
“Yes, but you were also convinced that I abandoned you.”
“True,” Malik conceded before rolling his eyes. “But, whether you knew it or not at the time, my heart was yours.” Malik watched as Bakhure bit the inside of his lip, the action he normally used when he was deep in thought.
“I think mine was too… Although, it took the fear of me losing you to realize that. Oh -” Malik took a step back as Bakhure bent down to grab the forgotten bouquet that was resting on his side. “Happy birthday.”
Reaching out to grab the bouquet, Malik couldn’t help but smile warmly. He never forgot. “You shouldn’t have to celebrate in the shadows of others,” Bakhure would tell him and at the time, it had meant the world. Malik would normally suffer through school and events where it seemed like every holiday overshadowed him. But hearing those words, they changed him, they reminded him that he mattered.
At least to someone.
“You’re such an idiot.” Malik wheezed as he grazed his fingers over the tips of the red lilies. “I love them.”
“And I love you.”
Malik grabbed Bakhure’s hand and laced his fingers between them. “Since your place is occupied, what do you say we head back to my place and catch up?”
“Oh Malik, I still have to give you your other gift,” Bakhure grinned as he pulled Malik close and whispered in his ear. “And I promise it’ll be a mouth full.”
Malik gasped and playfully shoved Bakhure, who was doubled over in laughter. He couldn’t deny that this was what he missed; these moments and the laughter that rang through his heart and ears in sweet joy. Malik wished he could freeze this and make it last. Wished he could go back to all of the days he spent without Bakhure and tell himself to reach out; buy himself all of the times that he missed. Looking back down at the flowers, Malik realized that he needed to focus on the present. There wasn’t any need anymore to dwell on what was or what could have been.
The ‘what could have been’, had chosen him. And the ‘what was’, had become better than he had ever hoped things would be.